


A Change of Cologne

by 9_of_Clubs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dark Will, Dark Will Graham, Games of Cat and Cat, M/M, Predator/Prey, Unresolved Sexual Tension, hannibal spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/pseuds/9_of_Clubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gun is nowhere near enough to ruin their conversation. </p><p>My take on the scene where Will shoots a blank at Hannibal from the 2.07 Promo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Cologne

“Are you going to kill me now?” Hannibal asks as Will pulls the trigger, the blank in it making him flinch, before he realizes there’s no crack, no shot, no bullet in his skull. He would maim and slaughter others for offenses far more minor than this, and yet it is Will and he only stands there, unsure of what the best course of action would be. 

“No.” Will says calmly, tucking the gun away into its holster, moving to sit down at the kitchen table, staring up at the other unblinkingly. Hannibal hesitates for a moment and then turns back around, reaches for mugs from the cabinet and pours coffee out for them both, the routine of it welcome. He sets Will’s in front of him, dismayed at the way the glass shakes a little in his grasp, just a hint of disturbance to the surface of the liquid, but he knows Will sees. He’s unsure why he’s so unsettled here, what exactly has now, of all moments, disturbed his ability to project only what he wants seen. Perhaps it is because Will views him so clearly there is no longer anywhere to hide. He relishes the pain of that. 

“Then why have you come?” He sits opposite Will, bends in, a play at their former selves, at who they used to be, little more than mere shades of what they are now. Hannibal has always craved to be seen, finds this truer form liberating, and yet it has stolen from him at the same time. He dislikes that, dislikes not getting everything that he wants. 

“Because otherwise I’d have ended up here with an actual bullet some night or another.” Will’s gaze is thoughtful, far, but he finds Hannibal’s eyes now with more ease than before. “Sooner or later.” He pauses, tilting his neck, crooked smile unfolding across his face. Hannibal’s eyes following his every movement. “And we don’t really want that, do we Doctor Lecter?” 

“I should think we do not.” He murmurs, watching as Will leans back in his chair, picks up the coffee and sips from the burning liquid. There’s an idle threat to Will’s tone, but the suggestion in it is what really makes his stomach clench uncomfortably. The image Will paints with his words, one of creeping in at the dead of night, weapon in hand, unsettles him, in essence, doing so would be all but forcing Hannibal’s hand around his throat, Hannibal’s knife into his gut. He does not want to kill Will, he has made peace with the thought long ago, but now it dances tauntingly in front of him. Now, Will understands it too and dangles it. He forces his lips to move, presenting relaxation of his own. “You are then, I suppose, invited to come shoot empty bullets at my head whenever it pleases you. If that is what will help to keep you from harming yourself and me.” 

Will snorts at those words, something almost like a genuine laugh, except that his eyes are still hard, are looking at Hannibal as though he is the prey, some alien affection for him existing as such; Hannibal recognizes it as rather like his own. It both unnerves and thrills him. 

The other rises from his place, crosses smoothly around to stand behind Hannibal, one hand settling on his shoulder, the other stroking down his arm in a motion that makes Hannibal swallow, that churns something deep and dark inside him. The whisper of desire heightens as Will leans over, breath ghosting along Hannibal’s neck. “I will keep that in mind, Doctor Lecter.” His lips are so close they are almost pressing into skin, Hannibal’s eyes closing as the scent of Will overwhelms his senses. It is free of the sweet burn of illness, but rich with something new, he inhales, a distinctly spicier edge. A change of cologne, Hannibal realizes, with a quirk of lips, as Will lingers over him for another moment and then pulls away, his footsteps heading towards the door. 

Hannibal sits like a statue for another heartbeat and then rises, clears away the cups and washes them slowly as the empty space around him quivers with the remains of Will. Strands of melodies start to flow through his mind, the sound of the front door closing barely registering, notes twisting themselves into symphonies of anticipation, exploding with color and vibration.

“I will see you tomorrow then.” He tells the air and lets the music overwhelm him.


End file.
